


blasphemia

by handydandynotebook



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Crack Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Religious Discussion, Surprise Kissing, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27238942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handydandynotebook/pseuds/handydandynotebook
Summary: “Whatever are you crying for?”Susan gasps, jerking her hands from her face. She’d only seen a handful of dog walkers out and about and the woman suddenly sitting beside her is not one of them. In fact, Susan doesn’t believe she’s ever seen her at all, which is almost as bizarre as her soundless approach. Hawkins is a tiny fishbowl of a town.But the woman beside her must be someone she’s never seen before. She'd certainly remember if she had, Susan realizes, because this woman is one of the most striking people she’s ever laid eyes upon.
Relationships: Susan Hargrove/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13





	blasphemia

**Author's Note:**

> i'm rly enjoying myself here in crackland lmao. mkay, so i normally don't do shippy stuff but. these two would be so hot together. also i have an embarrassing number of susan headcanons, one being that she's a lapsed catholic and what better way to lapse ur catholicism than to smooch the mother of demons, queen of hell* herself. well i guess having sex would be better than just smooching, but sadly as hard as i tried, i couldn't think of any scenario where that would happen. 
> 
> *i know sabrina is the canon queen of hell as of s3 and lilith was just regent but...tbf what kind of fucking bs was that, man. lbr that crown fits lilith better than anyone, that throne should be hers. i love sabrina, she my baby, my darling, my boo, but. lilith is queen of hell, thanks. boy do i have thoughts abt caos s3 but now is not the time or place.

Crying in public is pathetic but crying at home is perilous, so crying in public it is. Susan scrunches up on the park bench and stuffs her sobs into her hands. She tries not to break down like this. Normally she can keep it together, keep a lid on her emotions and shove them somewhere deep, deep down as she distracts herself with dusting knickknacks or hand-washing the drapes.

She does her best to keep it together but everything keeps getting worse. Neil’s always been rough in the bedroom, always done what he’s wanted whether Susan is comfortable with it or not. She doesn’t fight him, she can’t, but he’s hardly ever so rough as he was last night, crushing Susan’s face up against the wall so hard she thought her cheekbone might crack as he plowed into her from behind. She could hardly even breathe and she wasn’t sure if it was truly his greater weight holding her in place or the sheer terror of what worse might come if she dared to move. 

She can feel things escalating between him and Billy too. She never sticks around for Neil’s discipline, if she can help it. Will always seek the exit as long as it’s there. But she can still hear it even when she tries not to and a couple days ago, there had been a sound distinctly out of the norm. In between a solid _thwap_ and the subtle vibration of the floor underneath the thud of something heavy, Susan had heard a whimper. 

She’d never heard a whimper before. And it certainly hadn’t belonged to Neil. 

The violence is present even in its absence. In the way Neil’s mustache scratches her skin as he kisses her cheek, his hands so gently hovering over her hips. In the virulent way Billy’s eyes glare under the light, or the droplets of red tinged urine she mops from the bathroom floor and she’s never sure if they’ve splashed there accidentally or if he’d been too passive aggressive to properly aim. It’s in every bated breath squeezing Susan’s lungs as Max rolls her eyes or mouths off in front of Neil, when she fails to take her dirty shoes off at the door, either because she forgot like kids do or because she doesn’t grasp the weight of her own defiance the way Susan does— Lord, Susan almost crumbles beneath it every time. 

“Whatever are you crying for?” 

Susan gasps, jerking her hands from her face. She didn’t hadn’t heard anyone approach. It’s a chilly, dreary kind of day, wind nippy and skies grey. She’d only seen a handful of dog walkers out and about and the woman suddenly sitting beside her is not one of them. 

In fact, Susan doesn’t believe she’s ever seen her at all, which is almost as bizarre as her soundless approach. Hawkins is a tiny fishbowl of a town. Even if she doesn’t know everyone personally, she thinks she could identify half its residents by name. Even the people she doesn’t know by name, surely she’s seen around, at the supermarket or the drugstore.

But the woman beside her must be someone she’s never seen before. She’d certainly remember if she had, Susan realizes, because this woman is one of the most striking people she’s ever laid eyes upon. Unforgettably so. She’s perhaps a decade older than Susan herself, piercing leonine gaze and blood red lipstick. Thick dark hair sweeps down to narrow, leather clad shoulders and under her jacket is a dress as dark as starless nights, clinging to her form as if it’s woven from silken shadows. 

Susan is almost startled by her and perhaps that’s why she blurts an honest answer. 

“My husband.” 

The stranger gives the tiniest of nods. “Cruel to you, isn’t he?” 

“I don’t know if I’d call him cruel. Not to me, not most of the time, but—“ 

“Is his kindness conditional?” 

The question is phrased more like a statement but Susan answers as if she were being asked anyway. 

“Always.” 

“He’s cruel to you,” the woman asserts with a voice like dry wine. “No need to sugarcoat it, I am familiar with the type.” 

Susan swallows, swears she’s almost spellbound by this stranger’s unwavering stare. 

“He’s so cruel,” she admits aloud for the very first time. Something knocks loose inside her chest and then she’s babbling like a broken dam. 

“He’s cruel and he’s hateful, he shrinks me down to nothing and then he buys me jewelry. He’s violent with his son and it’s not as if there was never any corporal punishment in my own childhood—“ Susan breaks off as she blinks away recollections of plucking rice out of her skin and wooden rulers rapped against her knuckles. “—but this is something else entirely. Sometimes I’m scared he’ll kill him and even more than that, I’m terrified of the day his fists land on my daughter.” 

“I understand. After all, I’m a mother too,” she murmurs, slowly stroking a hand over Susan’s hair as if she’s bestowing affection upon someone else’s neglected pet.

Everything about this is so endlessly outlandish. Susan suddenly feels as if she’s dreaming, as if the woman she’s looking at isn’t really real at all, but some kind of illusion. A mirage in the desert, a trick of the light. But there’s living warmth coming off her hand and her gaze is too penetrating to be anything but true. 

“Every night I pray he’ll stop,” she pules feebly and she does, oh how she does, prays so hard the rosary leaves imprints in her palm. “But he just keeps getting worse.” 

The stranger hums in her throat, a soft, appraising sound as her fingers tuck past Susan’s turtleneck. Susan doesn’t stop her, just holds her breath as she feels the tiny cross lifted from the hollow of her throat. She glances down as the stranger holds her necklace out, thin silver chain wrapped around a midnight polished fingernail. 

“Tell me, mortal. Do you see your god as a man or a woman?” 

“Um, a man, I suppose,” Susan mumbles, hands knotting in her lap. “At least in my family we were taught we revere Him as our Father because he guides us with a father’s love, principally. More so than a mother’s.” 

“A father’s love,” repeats the woman, sounding amused. “And what of a father’s love?” 

The whimper of a few nights ago echoes through her mind, muffled on the other side of the wall but nonetheless, distinctly not Neil’s. It resounds in her eardrums and Susan feels sick. She would rather listen to Billy spit every curse word he knows than to ever hear him make that noise again. 

A father’s love, indeed. Susan cannot speak and somehow, she doesn’t think she has to. 

A knowing smile unfurls on the stranger’s lips as she yanks the necklace. Susan feels a tug and then it comes free with a quiet metallic snap. She deftly tosses it behind her head, her hypnotic gaze never leaving Susan’s as it gets lost somewhere in the grass. Susan will never find it again. She does not rise to attempt the search. 

“Your prayers didn’t work. So tell me, what will you do now?” 

“Do?” Susan echoes. A sad laugh quivers out between her teeth. “I can’t do anything. I can’t change him and I’m powerless to stop him.” 

“Foolish creature,” she lightly admonishes as she cups Susan’s cheek, thumb softly stroking the sleepless crescent under her eye. “You aren’t powerless, you only think you are. Perhaps that husband of yours has tricked you, though I suspect you've tricked yourself.” 

Susan gapes, utterly stupefied. She doesn’t even know what to make of that. Her gut jerks with the heart wrenching finality that it's a lie. It must be, it can’t possibly be true. She’s spent so long feeling like no one she doesn’t even remember what it’s like to feel like someone, let alone someone with power. 

“Foolish, foolish creature,” the woman repeats as her hand tenderly slides down Susan’s jaw. “Foolish heart but such a lovely face. If I wasn’t so attached to this guise, maybe I’d take yours.” 

“Wha—” 

Susan is silenced as blood red lips smother her own. Perhaps in another life, she'd have pulled away, but in this moment every instinct impels her to kiss back. All at once her blood is on fire and she knows she must kiss back. She tastes something she needs but cannot name in this strange woman’s mouth, paws at her with a desperation she doesn’t understand. The stranger’s tongue slides into Susan’s mouth and every fiber of her being thrums with heat. Suddenly, all she can feel is power. It rises inside of her, balloons against the confines of her ribcage. 

“I’ll grant you a gift,” the stranger murmurs in between the slide of lips over lips. “Silly thing though you are, I know you. I understand you. And for that, I will grant you the freedom you desire. But in return, you must promise me you will never think yourself powerless again.” 

“Okay,” Susan agrees breathlessly. “I promise.” She does not quite know what she is agreeing to, but thinks she understands enough to agree anyway, briefly nuzzling against the woman's cheek before she’s pulled into another kiss, strong fingers so soft against her jawline. 

She eagerly sucks the tongue that slips back into her mouth. Whatever broke inside of her so long ago she couldn’t tell you when, is restored with a ferocity that makes her want to roar. Susan hasn’t been kissed with such passion in years. She returns it ardently, heat pooling in her stomach and scorching between her thighs. She closes her eyes in the throes of fervor and— 

And it just stops. 

Everything stops. 

The bodily warmth and smooth leather under her pawing hands vanishes. The weight and hot wetness of a mouth sliding against her own is no more. Susan opens her eyes. Blinks rapidly in disbelief as she’s met with the sight of nothing. 

Unless the woman turned invisible, there is no longer anyone beside her. 

Susan jolts and springs up from the park bench. She twirls to and fro in quick, noncomprehending circles. Her eyes flicker around in a wild search as her jaw screws open in shock. 

No one is here. One of the dog walkers she saw earlier, Mr. Something-With-A-B from the deli is trotting down the path with his collie. That’s it. 

Oh. 

Well, it appears it’s finally happened. She’s lost her mind. Snapped like a rubber band, she has. Perhaps her nervous breakdown was an inevitable thing, her anxiety this insatiable force, gnawing at her like some relentless rodent while she cowered in Neil’s shadow and planned every moment of her day around placating him. Susan supposes she was bound to crack eventually, but she never anticipated such vivid hallucinations. 

She probably shouldn’t be driving but she’s too unnerved to stay, so she scurries back to her car and gets behind the wheel anyway. She wants to scream but bites her tongue and turns the radio on instead. She listens to buoyant, mindless oldies. Turns up the volume so she doesn’t have to think. 

As far as she can tell, the drive is free of hallucinations. 

She hopes the ambulance in her driveway is a hallucination too but it seems less and less likely the closer she gets. There are neighbors staring on the sidewalk as if they see it too. It's real. Susan's stomach drops like a stone and she’s immediately awash in glacial panic. 

Susan parks on the curb and practically vaults herself out of the car, racing toward the house in a mad dash. 

“Max!” she shouts, eyes frantically darting for her daughter as she dreads the worst. “Maxine!” 

She doesn’t see Max. There’s Billy stooped on the porch steps, hunched far over, head between his knees and curls curtaining his face. Susan sees Billy but she doesn’t see Max and with each micro-second that passes, her fear heightens. She’s on the very cusp of hysteria when Max tears out of the garage, copper hair streaking behind her as she shoots toward Susan like a bullet. 

“Mom!” 

They collide in the middle of the lawn, Susan rocking back from the force of it as Max’s arms lock around her midsection. 

“Max,” she exhales in relief. “What on Earth is going on!? What happened?!” 

Max pulls back from the hug, hands still clutching the fleecy fabric of Susan’s sweater. 

“It’s Neil,” she whispers, wide eyed. “They loaded him in the back there, but I think he’s dead.” 

Susan feels her own eyes widen. “What?” 

“It was the craziest thing,” Max sputters, gaze stark with shock. “I was in my room. I heard Neil and Billy going at it again and I know I’m supposed to stay out of it. I know, but…” 

She pauses, briefly glancing back to Billy and gripping Susan’s sweater even tighter, so tight it nearly hurts where the hem pulls taut to her flesh.

“It sounded really bad. So I came out and I tried to stop him.” She looks up as Susan’s throat knots tight, chest puffing when she sucks in a deep breath. “I thought he was going to hit me. I mean, I know he was going to hit me, he pulled his arm back and everything. Then he just fell down.” 

Susan gasps softly. 

“He didn’t get back up so I called 9-1-1.” Max jerks her head toward the ambulance. “But I really think he’s dead, Mom.” 

Susan glances over. The vehicle doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to leave. Why should it be, there isn’t anyone to save. 

The man falls down dead a mere moment away from striking her daughter. Some people would think of it as karma. Others would attribute it to sheer dumb luck. The Susan of last week would’ve probably hoped it was the work of a guardian angel. 

From the corner of her eye, Susan catches a glimpse of a bewitching silhouette. When she turns her head, it’s gone. She licks her teeth and finds she can still taste something unknowable. The heat rekindles in her stomach. There was some kind of work done here today but Susan doesn’t believe it was done by anything remotely angelic. 

**Author's Note:**

> why is lilith in hawkins? 
> 
> my guess is she was there to take a soul to hell since like, that's one of the queen's duties, and she just took pity on susan and decided to nab neil's soul too. damn. why is everything i do lately so dark. maybe i'll do a more lighthearted crossover where we throw billy's post s3 carcass in the cain pit and see what happens-- oh wait no, that is also dark. idk maybe i'll do some fluffy susan & max, maybe max tries to teach her to skateboard. gotta do smth less dark, feeling like tales from the crypt up in here.


End file.
